Colbert Said No to This Bit 4 Times. On His Final Week, He Finally Said Yes
Some television jokes live and die in the same afternoon. Others linger for years, waiting for the right moment, the right mood, and the right yes.
For Late Show writer Michael Cruz Kayne, the moment had been circling since 2011. He had been pitching the same idea again and again: a parody called “It’s Raining Fish”, a playful, fish-filled twist on Paul Shaffer’s 1982 hit. It was the kind of bit that made perfect sense in a writers’ room and maybe slightly less sense anywhere else. And every time Kayne brought it up, Stephen Colbert said no.
Not once. Not twice. Four times.
That kind of rejection can kill a joke for good. But in television, especially on a show built on timing, persistence sometimes matters as much as the punchline. Kayne kept pitching. Colbert kept declining. The bit stayed on the shelf, waiting like a song no one had agreed to play.
The Final Week Changes Everything
This week, The Late Show entered its final four episodes, and the energy in the building clearly shifted. There was a sense that the show was not just finishing, but accounting for itself. The Monday episode became a kind of victory lap for the weird, the shelved, and the almost-forgotten. Colbert dedicated the night to the “best of the worst” — the segments that had been too strange, too risky, or just too stubborn to ever make it on air.
It was the perfect setup for a bit like “It’s Raining Fish”. What had once been rejected became part of the farewell. What had been laughed off in meetings now had a place in the final stretch of the show’s life.
And then came the moment that made it land.
Paul Shaffer Walks Onstage
Right at the end of it all, Paul Shaffer walked onto the stage.
That entrance mattered. Shaffer was not just a guest popping in for nostalgia. He was the man who co-wrote the original song. He was also someone whose name is tied forever to late-night television, thanks to his 33 years beside David Letterman in that very building. His presence turned a silly parody into something bigger: a full-circle moment for the entire Late Show family.
Dancers filled the stage. The full band was there. Michael Cruz Kayne sang like he meant every ridiculous word. And Paul Shaffer played along in the way only Paul Shaffer can — loose, sharp, joyful, and fully aware of the joke without ever losing the music.
What had once been a rejected bit suddenly felt like a celebration of the whole machine: the writers who kept pitching, the performers who kept showing up, and the musicians who understood that a good joke still needs a great groove.
Sometimes the best payoff is not the punchline itself, but the fact that everyone kept believing in it long enough for it to happen.
Why This Moment Hit So Hard
On paper, it was a comedy segment. In practice, it was a farewell gift.
Colbert did not just let a rejected idea finally air. He gave his team the chance to be seen at the end of the run, when it mattered most. The show was not only looking back at its biggest hits. It was also making room for the obscure ideas, the work-in-progress jokes, and the little dreams that never quite fit until the last possible minute.
That is what made the moment feel emotional without becoming sentimental. It was funny, yes. It was also generous.
After years of no, Colbert’s final answer came at the exact time the bit could mean the most. Not because it was suddenly a better joke, but because the show itself had become the place where unfinished things could still find their ending.
The Goodbye Behind the Gag
What Colbert said to his staff afterward reportedly carried the weight of that decision. The words mattered because they came after the music, after the dancing, after the applause. In the final days of a show that had spent years shaping the nightly conversation, there is always a second story happening behind the cameras: the people who built the thing trying to say goodbye without making it feel too final.
That is why “It’s Raining Fish” resonated beyond the joke itself. It was a reminder that television is made by people who keep notes, keep pitching, keep hoping. Sometimes the payoff arrives years later. Sometimes it arrives in the final week. Sometimes it arrives with Paul Shaffer onstage, the band playing, and a room full of people realizing they are watching one last piece of magic land exactly where it was always meant to.
For Michael Cruz Kayne, it was a long-awaited yes. For Colbert’s staff, it was a moment of recognition. And for everyone watching, it was proof that even the bits that get rejected can still come back in the end and make the finale feel complete.
